"Okay, now I'm going to give you another list. This time, I'm going to pause between each word, and I want you to visualize it a few different ways. Like if I say fruit, you think apple, then grape, then orange. If I say bear, don't think of just one bear. Think grizzly, then polar bear, then panda."

"I understand."

This is the fifth list Rick has had me visualize. This morning while we had breakfast, he asked for me to help him try to modify his protocols again. He has an idea that if he routes commands through the station's network, then my implant, then back to him it should…I don't know. Something. It's all annoying techno-babble to me; I'm trying to be patient because I can tell this is really important to Rick, but I don’t think I have the mental energy for another list of visualizations today if this one doesn’t work."Cat."

I picture an orange tabby cat. Then a bob-cat. Then a calico cat with a torn ear. Then Borg, with her flat face, yellow eyes and long, black fur.

"House."

I picture our town house. The White House. A cabin Shane and I stayed in once.

"Cyborg."

I pause; I can't think of anything.

"Cyborg."

Rick, of course. Rick is a cyborg– I picture him. Then I remember that Borg is cyborg as well, so I picture him next. Then I remember the legally emancipated Perfect Match who was in the news, and I picture him.

"Spy."

Nothing. What does that word even mean?

"Spy."

I picture a man with binoculars, hiding in a bush. I picture a person in a black cloak, with a hat pulled down low so you can't see their face as they try to blend into shadows.

I picture hidden recording devices. Research and development secrets being recorded and divulged to corporate competitors.

"Good, perfect! Hold that thought!"

I try, but it's slipping away. What was the word again?

"Okay, that was good. We almost had it. Let’s do another list—”

"Rick, I…" I stand up as I speak, "I'm sorry; I think I’m done for now."

He sighs and starts putting away his stuff. He's got a couple of portable screens and a desk-top set up that he powers down. This is a neat little office alcove he's put together for himself.

"I guess it's almost lunch time anyway." He takes my hand, leading me toward the cafeteria. "Shane is taking a lunch break with us today."

Stopping suddenly, I dig in my heels. Yanking back on Rick’s hand, I force him to come to a stop, and turn to face me.

"Aren't we—?" I search Rick's face, trying to recall, "Weren't we mad at him? We were going to leave?"

I know we were. I remember, Rick said that Shane had—

Done something?

"We were going to leave, but that didn't work out. Then we learned that I was wrong when I accused Shane of manipulating your implant. He explained everything last night."

He looks at me with concern. I don't want to worry him, so I nod in agreement.

"That's right," I say tentatively. Where would we go anyway? We're on a space station.

It worries me that I can't remember Shane's explanation. And what was it I was upset about? Being manipulated?

It must not be important if I can't even remember it.

But Shane was upset this morning, I remember that. I woke up to him standing by the bed, staring down at me. I was wrapped in Rick's arms. And Shane eyes had an expectant, eager look.

Then he said, "Well?"

"Well what?"

"What we talked about? Last night?"

I just look at him in sleepy confusion, Trying to figure out what he's saying. Obviously he wants something from me, but I don't know what.

He shook his head, frowning. Then he left. Without a "see ya later," no kiss, nothing.

It felt like he was frustrated with me. His disappointment was like a knife in my chest and I don't even know what the problem is.

Feeling like this is always compounded. Like, not only do I feel really bad, but I think I'm being over dramatic too. Shane doesn't have to be in a good mood and all lovey-dovey every hour of every day. It shouldn't affect me so much that he's grumpy. So I also feel foolish on top of feeling anxious.

"Hey, don't worry about it," Rick interrupts my thoughts. "It's been a weird couple of days, and you didn't sleep well last night."

He hugs me and leads me toward the cafeteria. When we get there, Shane is already sitting at the table having gotten food for the three of us.

Lunch is boring with Shane and Rick talking nonstop about Rick's programming efforts.

"I see what you're trying to do here," Shane is studying Rick's portable screen, "But the problem is that even if you succeed, it'll override as soon as it's back online. And not only that, but you have to deal with the redundancies. As soon as you change this," he points to something, "and move on to the code syntax, that preliminary antecedent has already reverted to—”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"But—" Rick cuts in, "what if we slowed it down by rewriting the..."

And on and on and on.

I had no idea that Shane was interested in helping Rick with this little pet-project. But they are really into it right now, totally geeking out and I’m just sitting here, not getting any of it.

I've had enough already, so I stand and say, "I'm going to go take a nap."

They both look up at me and Rick replies with, "Okay."

Shane doesn't say anything but looks back down at the screen.

I guess I could do with some alone time, but it chafes that neither Shane nor Rick–who is supposed to be synced to me–object to me leaving or offer to walk me to the door or anything. It’s not a big deal, but why have they both gone from being over-attentive to just— not?

When I get back to our room I take a few minutes to pet Borg. I'm not actually sleepy, so I look for some reading material on the portable screen Shane had given me. There's not a lot of fiction to choose from and since the station has a closed network I can't access any online booksellers. Oh well.

I wonder how Shane was able to video call me when I was at home though. And he ordered all that stuff for me to unbox. So there must be some way to access the regular internet from here. I'll have to ask him about that next time I see him.

I straighten up the room, but eventually I'm so bored that I do end up taking a nap after all.

*____*____*____*____*____*____*

I'm having the picnic dream again. It's lovely here. The sun is shining warmly on us and there's a slight breeze. This time I'm the one laying in the sun, relaxing, my eyes drifting closed behind sunglasses. Rick and Shane are setting out all the picnic stuff, talking quietly with each other.

Rick hands me a pair of binoculars and says, "Look over there, at the tree line."

Sitting up, I look and there's something flying over there, hovering just under the lowest branches of a tall pine tree.

"Is it a bird?"

Rick shakes his head, "It's a spy."

What? I look through the binoculars again, bringing the flying thing into focus. It's definitely not a bird, it's a small drone of some kind.

I look around and see that we're the only ones here. "Is it spying on us?"

"Yes." Shane answers as he hands Rick a glass of wine, "It's not the first time either."

"Who would spy on our picnic though? We aren't doing anything."

"Do we have to do anything to be spied on? It's a machine. It's programmed to spy on us so that's what it's doing. It doesn't know why," Shane's tone is impatient.

"I know that." I take a glass of wine. "Why would a person program that machine to spy on us?"

Rick is behind Shane shaking his head at me and making a hand gesture, like I should–what? Stop talking about the drone? Why show it to me then?

"So you think this is my fault?" Shane is livid, his eyes narrowed, his neck flushed a bright red, "Like I gave them a reason to do what they did? Like they need a reason to spy, sneak and manipulate? To ruin my life?"

He throws his wine glass to the ground where it lands in the soft grass. Then he stomps off.

Well.

Turning to Rick, I open my mouth to ask what Shane's problem is, but Rick speaks first, "C'mon Honey, don't be dense."

"I'm not—"

"You are." He shakes his head impatiently, then tosses back the last of his wine. "You know who spies on Shane."

"SynDeCorp."

He nods, "And you know why."

"Because he heads the R&D department at HillCo. And he doesn't have an implant."

He nods again and says, "Just so."

"But why is he mad at me?"

Bringing his hands up to his face, he rubs his eyes and sighs loudly, "You're being dense again."

"Ok, fine, so he's mad at me because—" I search for the answer, "Because I forgot why he was being spied on?"

He nods excitedly, "Now you're getting it."

"He wants me to remember."

"Yes."

"About SynDeCorp, HillCo, corporate spying—"

"Yes."

"But what does that have to do with me?"

"Dammit, Honey, we're so close." He moves over to me and pulls me up so that we're both kneeling, facing each other. Holding my hands, he gives them a light squeeze and asks, "What does corporate espionage have to do with you, Honey–Shane's beautiful, perfect, sweet wife? What does SynDeCorp and their scheming have to do with you?"

"I—"

Stop.

"I—"

That's enough.

Rick's gone. The picnic is gone too. In fact the whole park, trees, grass and everything is gone and I'm just floating. Laying still in inky, black nothing. I wouldn't call it space, there's no stars. And it's not cold.

I lift my hand in front of my face and I don't see anything. I try to look down at myself and find nothing there.

Panic is rising in my chest. No, not my chest that I no longer have. In my thoughts. Do I even have eyes? Is that why I can't see anything?

Look what you did, you fucking idiot sex-bot!

Where did that come from?

It occurs to me that I need to relax and clear my mind. I've had too many troubling thoughts lately and should just let them go-

She's about to wake up. It'll all be okay.

Is that what I'm doing? Waking up?

Because it feels like I'm falling asleep. What happens if you fall asleep in a dream? Does it even matter?

She's not waking up.

No. Not ever. Never ever. I'm just going to sink into this nothingness and sleep forever.

She needs to wake up right now.

And then I'm being pulled. It's like I was laying peacefully at the bottom of a warm lake, then someone reached down and yanked me straight up and out through the water so I can take a deep, life-sustaining breath.

I gasp loudly and I'm breathing painfully.

Rick and Shane are looking down at me in concern. I'm lying on a gurney, like the one we tied Shane to in the medbay.

Springing up, I wrap my arms around Shane, "Oh my god…I think I almost died."

He squeezes me tightly and doesn't deny it.

I glare at Rick, "You did something to me."

He nods.

"You made me remember—"

"You remember?" Shane interrupts excitedly.

I do. Holy shit. Now that I can remember everything, I realize there were big swaths of my life I wasn't aware of. I thought Shane had bought our car and house without consulting me, I had just forgotten shopping for them. I thought Shane had just up and decided to take the Europa job and leave me. He had explained it five times, that he had to leave, that his employer was forcing him—

Because of me.

I'm a cyborg, built to spy on Shane. To seduce him, learn his secrets, secretly record him and share all that information with my makers. SynDeCorp. But all that's over. SynDeCorp can't reach us here.

"You remember?" Shane asks again.

Instead of answering, I kiss him with everything in me. Pouring all of my love and devotion and apology into it.

He grabs my arms and sets me gently away from him, looking down at me intently.

He wants an answer. "Yes, I remember everything."

"Everything?" He looks perplexed so I tell him an abbreviated list of all of the things that went on in our lives that I had forgotten.

It's like one half of my mind never knew what the other half was doing and now everything is put together as it should be.

"How did you do this?"

Rick elbows Shane aside and tells me excitedly, "First, I had to isolate the response. Then I rerouted that command sequence so that instead of immediately following through to obscure your memory, first it would rout it through our sync. You had several redundancies, so I had to repeat the process a few times. Then I worked on it from my side of the sync so that my programming interfered with that original command—"

He must have noticed my eyes glazing over, so he just says, "It was a lot of trial and error."

This is amazing. Because now I remember every single time Shane had convinced me of the truth, I never 100% bought into it. Like I couldn't argue with it, but it just felt untrue. And then I would soon forget it.

I feel different now. There has been a seismic shift, like I'm completely aligned with the truth of who I am and my history with Shane and there's no way I could ever forget again.